Plum Vignettes
by JulianneJayBabe
Summary: A collection of various shorts, bits and pieces that don't belong anywhere else. Some are related, some are not. They will be marked accordingly. Generally appropriate for all ages. No warnings.
1. Chapter 1: Mooner's Letter

_**Author's Note:**_ _Ok, for this picture a series of post-it notes. Perhaps left on the fridge, or stuck to the T.V. This is just something I whipped up to contribute to a challenge__. It took me all of 10 minutes so pardon if it falls short of the goal (to be funny)._

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Dear Dude,

That spanish dude Hozay came by. Said he had a bunch of VcRs he needed to get rid of. Asked if you were intrested. I said maybe. Thought this was the best way to tell you cause I'm not good at remembring stuff. Dudette came by too. We forgot court again. Bummer.

Later dude,

Mooner

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_**Side Note:**_ _Does anyone else see Mooner and Dougie as Jay and Silent Bob? I can't think of anyone else when I picture those two._


	2. Chapter 2: Explain That

_**A/N:** From a challenge involving...an explanation?_

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"It seemed like a good idea at the time…" Lula trailed off. Connie shot out of her chair and began pacing back and forth between her desk and the couch where Lula and I sat.

"HOW? How could that possibly seem like a good idea?!" She screeched. Her arms were waving frantically. Jutting a finger at Lula, she continued at an even higher volume, "I mean really! How could you—? What would make you—? I don't even—Aghh!" Connie flopped back into her chair and put her head in her hands still muttering.

"Hey! You think you coulda—"

"Ok guys, this isn't doing any good," I broke in. Sensing Lula working up in to Rhino mode I decided to be the voice of reason. Hunh. That was different, me, the reasonable one. "Obviously we have a problem here, but I'm sure Lula had no idea that it could turn out like this. So why don't we stop arguing and sit down, and try to figure out how to fix this. Ok?"

My request was met with silence. Then:

"Fine."

"Fine."

Ok, fine. Yeesh, I can tell this is going to fun. Not. I think I need a doughnut…or ten.


	3. Chapter 3: Explanation Aftermath

_**A/N:** A continuation from 'Explain That' challenge. It's rough cause I did it in about, 23 minutes. I think the dumb formatting took longer. Sheesh. I hope someone likes it…not sure if I do. Also sorry if the bit at the end offends anyone, it's not my intent, I really do love Spanish soaps. And Telemundo is the channel we get in Tally, don't know where else its broadcast to._

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**Loaded?**

The cold cloth resting over my eyes and forehead was no longer so cold and I was weighing the relief I would feel with a fresh one, against the effort needed to attain it. It wasn't looking good. I hadn't moved from the couch since I came home with a raging headache after three hours of mediating the bickering between Connie and Lula. Out of those three hours, not more than forty minutes was spent actually trying to fix the problem. We'd finally decided we weren't getting anywhere and it would probably be better (for my sanity) to cool off and regroup to attack the problem tomorrow. So here I lay, in all my pathetic glory.

The decision to get up was made for me a moment later when Mother Nature made her needs known. With a sigh I struggled to a sitting position and pushed to my feet. I took care of business and stopped in the kitchen on my way back to the couch. Probably it would be good to eat something. Probably it would be good if I had something in my apartment that was edible.

A peek in the fridge revealed a half-empty half gallon of milk, two beers, some moldy cheese, and a jar of green olives with no olives in it. Another sigh, another day of mooching off mom for dinner.

The cupboard search proved more fruitful. I pulled down the bread and peanut butter to fix a quick snack. I also found a half eaten bag of chips that were only slightly less crunchy than they should be. Score. I loaded a plate with peanut butter sandwiches and chips, grabbed a fresh ice pack to wrap inside my newly rinsed washcloth and headed back for the living room. After a quick hunt for the remote (under the cushions as usual) I clicked the TV on and began flipping.

". . . I think we just broke the record for the number of gun fights in one week . . ." A bad Spaghetti Western, no Eastwood and no Wayne, not worth it. Click. Click.

". . . Freeze! Or the fried chicken gets it! . . ." Laugh track. Not in the mood for more Lucy and Ethel. I just left them. Don't want to spend too much time thinking about any Ricardos right now either. So not going there. Click. Click.

I finally settled on a soap opera in Spanish. It was fun adding your own dialogue to accompany the overly dramatic gestures, facial expressions and general chaos that were the staples of any decent soap on Telemundo. This should take my mind off things for a while.

A woman was in a kitchen, preparing dinner when a man with a gun dressed in black burst through the door. _"¡Helada!_ _¡O el pollo frito lo consigue!" _he yelled. The woman gasped, jumped back, and of course waived her arms around knocking things to the ground. At the commotion three other men ran in from the other direction waiving guns as well. General chaos ensued. The woman was screaming, the table was over turned, men ducking and shooting behind and around it. A stray bullet burst the sinks water pipe, spraying water over everyone. The man in black escaped back out the door he came in. As the dust settled, the tallest of the three remaining men was helping the woman to her feet and attempting to console her while walking her from the room. The two men left looked with disbelieving faces around the destroyed kitchen then at each other. Finally one of them spoke, _"No puedo creerlo. ¡Ésa es la tercera vez esta semana!"_ To which his companion returned, _"Pienso que acabamos de romper el expediente para el número de luchas del arma en una semana."_ I chuckled imaging what on earth they could say after a situation like that.

Yes, this was just what I needed right now.

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**_Spanish was translated using dictionary(dot)com's translater. I hope it is close to correct at least. If it isn't apparent, I was trying to get double duty out of the quotes in the English TV shows and the Spanish soap.  
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_Helada!_ _¡O el pollo frito lo consigue! -- _Frost! Or the chicken fried gets it!

_No puedo creerlo, ¡Ésa es la tercera vez esta semana! -- _I cannot believe it. That one is the third time this week!

_Pienso que acabamos de romper el expediente para el número de luchas del arma en una semana._ -- I think that we finished breaking the file for the number of fights of the weapon in one week.


End file.
